Strangely Normal
by xxkoffeexx
Summary: Of all the Gym Leaders she knew, Morty was the strangest. WhitneyxMorty. Resistanceshipping.


Strangely Normal

By xxkoffeexx

Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon.

Summary: Of all the Gym Leaders she knew, Morty was the strangest. WhitneyxMorty. Resistanceshipping.

--

Out of all the Gym Leaders she knew, Morty was the strangest.

And by strange Whitney meant very kind and courteous. He didn't flaunt, he never bragged, he didn't really care what people thought about him. He was good with people, but he was better with Pokémon.

Ghosts. Legends. His Pokémon clung to him like he was _one_ of them. She shivered.

She recalled when she was partnered with him for a conference a year ago. He was nice enough, but was slightly aloof and a bit out of this world. She caught him staring at a spot by her ear, and before she could ask, he took her elbow and guided her a few feet forward without a word.

At her confused stare, he smiled faintly and explained, "It was hanging over you. Don't worry about it."

Whitney begged to differ. She'd had nothing to _worry_ about until he pointed 'it' out. But she shook it off and smiled cheerfully, trying to warm up to him because it was in her nature to be friendly with everyone she met.

Even strange Gym Leaders who could see things she couldn't see.

--

She stumbled and almost fell, were it not for the tree in her path. Why did someone plant a tree in the middle of the path, Whitney wondered tiredly, feeling the rough bark against her flinching hands. Her skin was soft and unmarred, made for tying ribbons and brushing hair. Not for gripping trees and slamming against the dirt ground when she tripped and fell in the dark.

The sun had set about an hour ago: she'd seen it disappear beyond the horizon with dismay in her throat. She was supposed to be back in town before dark, but instead she was staggering in the middle of a patch of wilderness that had trees growing in the middle of the path.

_I'm not lost. I'm just taking the long way around. _

It was soothing to know she was _not_ hopelessly lost, because being lost in an unfamiliar territory with only moonless shadows for company was driving her slowly but surely down the road to utter panic.

How a simple excursion to pick Berries turned into a wilderness survival test, the Goldenrod Gym Leader had no idea. It was only supposed to take an hour, two hours at the most, so she'd brought only an empty bag to fill Berries with.

No Pokémon. No PokéGear. No jacket. No light. She had only a useless bag full of Berries that was half empty because she felt hungry an hour back and ate some.

_I'm lost. _

With a surge of desperate energy, Whitney crashed through the tall grass, not caring that the leaf blades scratched her exposed knees and arms. She shoved herself away from the looming trees in her way, and her vision tunneled on only what was in front of her.

_I have to get out of here. I have to go home._

With only those thoughts in mind, Whitney didn't focus on her surroundings, or even on the ground she tread on. It was inevitable, really, that she trip and fall. And trip and fall she did.

For several moments as she laid there, her heart raced crazily and blood rushed through her ears like a raging river. Her heavy breaths were loud in the darkness, and she imagined the forest eyes looking down at her pitiful form, crumpled and lonely on the ground. She could almost see them sneer, laughing at her. And when she finally moved to stand, she found it was impossible.

She had sprained her ankle.

Brilliant, Whitney thought as exhaustion and pain took its toll. Now she would die in an unknown patch of grass with only a dirty bag half filled with Berries by her side.

There was a breeze that brushed over her thin clothes and throbbing ankle. It murmured gently and she liked to think that the shadows were draping a cool layer of silk over her body. One final act of sympathy in her last hour, as if apologizing. The moon had even come out to cast a gentle ray of light on her eyelids, and she felt its fingers brush her brow lightly.

She sighed dreamily, "That feels nice. Thank you."

"You're welcome," the breeze replied.

_How polite._

And she thought no more.

--

_This is not my bed_, was the first thought that entered her mind when she woke up.

_This is not my room, _was her second thought.

Her eyes opened and she took in the dark walls, the light curtains fluttering by the open window, and the smell of some herbal tea that she couldn't name. Somebody must have brought her here—

As if on cue, the door opened. Whitney instinctively closed her eyes, pretending to sleep. The door clicked shut, and the sound of soft footsteps drew near the bed she was lying on. Her heart beat fast, too loudly, and she wondered if she'd been kidnapped. What would she do? Would she scream? Attack? Run?

"Whitney."

It was the familiarity of the amused voice and not her name that made her jolt up, his name on her lips. "Morty!" And she hissed in pain as searing pain rushed from her ankle.

"You don't need to move," he told her calmly, moving to take a seat by the bed. "I think you bruised your ankle."

"Sprained," she corrected with a pained grin, looking up at him through watering eyes because it had been a long time since she'd seen the Ecruteak Gym Leader. He was the same as ever, if a little older and—dare she admit it—more handsome. His clothes were darker now, making his blond hair seem more gold and his eyes more vivid. Something about his calm gaze and the relaxed hint of a smile around his mouth was achingly familiar, and Whitney was glad that she wasn't uncomfortable around him anymore.

Then she recalled the night before, and how she had blacked out in the middle of the wild. "How did you find me?" she asked him curiously.

Morty took a moment to answer, as if not quite sure of what to say, and lifted a slender hand to adjust his headband. "…I had a feeling you were in trouble. So I searched for you."

Her mouth opened, but then it closed. He wasn't talking about instincts or a hunch, she realized. His feeling had something to do with the way his violet eyes would get distant, as if he could see something normal people weren't meant to see. He didn't want to scare her with talk about such things, which was why he was reluctant to tell her.

Because it was strange. He was strange.

Whitney didn't care.

She reached out and touched his closest hand lightly, smiling up at him. "Thank you." He might have known she was in trouble, but he could have easily ignored it or called someone else for help. He didn't. Instead, he had been kind enough to go out in the night and look for her in the darkness. He had carried her all the way here—here being his house, she assumed without blushing. He took care of her. It was more than anyone could say of a friend, and at that moment she _knew_ they were good friends.

"You're welcome." His smile and voice was like a relaxing breeze.

Her own lips quirked. How polite.

"So it _was_ you."

--

"People think I'm strange," Morty suddenly remarked as she was rummaging through her dirty bag that he'd picked up. "But I think you're more strange." One of his Gastly drifted through the wall and then disappeared.

Whitney was intrigued and a little bit disturbed. How could she be possibly more strange than him? "Why is that?"

"I don't know anybody who could get lost and sprain their ankle just by picking Berries," he explained wryly. "Except for you."

She picked out a slightly squashed Berry and winked at him. "It's a talent, I guess." And it was, she mused, because how else could she have got to spend time with him like this? They never had the chance to get to know each other and it felt strangely normal, to say the least. "Did you really carry me all the way here?"

"You weren't too far from Ecruteak," he shrugged, glancing lazily toward the window. "And you aren't as heavy as you look."

Her instinct was to snap at him, her cheeks tinted red at his implication, but she realized he probably didn't mean it that way. It was just the way he was. She relaxed and continued firmly, "I see. But still, you must have been tired. So thank you again."

His violet orbs shifted back to her in amusement. "Is that all the thanks I get, Whitney?"

She blushed and pretended to roll her eyes. "Oh, fine! Here's your reward." And she magnanimously handed him a bruised Berry from her nearly-empty bag. She shyly watched for the reaction on his face.

Much to her delight, he laughed and took it. "You're too kind."

His fingers brushed against hers.

END

--

A/N: I am strangely hooked on this pairing. And I meant no reference to the title. Resistance shipping is extremely rare, but there are still some really good fanart done on them. I just haven't found any solid English fanfics about them. So I decided to write one. Here it is. Sorry if they're OOC.

Thanks for reading. Thanks Snoaz for pointing out the error. Please support this pairing if you like them!


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